The days at the Wales residence felt quieter.
More time inside the house. More moments of togetherness that, without anyone realizing, slowly became a habit.
George grew used to seeing Mary almost every day.
In the music room, the garden, the sitting room, or simply… in the same spaces without any reason at all. And like all habits, its meaning only became clear when the habit was no longer there.
At that time, attendance at royal gatherings depended heavily on official invitations from Queen Victoria. Mary, despite her family ties, was not always automatically included in every occasion. And it was precisely there that another side of George became visible.
On the days Mary did not appear, he noticed.
Not with any dramatic reaction, but with a quiet unease he could not fully hide.
That day, the family and guests were gathered as usual. Yet something felt… different.
George sat in his place.
Light conversation flowed around him.
Alexandra spoke gently as always, Maud occasionally added teasing remarks, Toria observed the family with a soft smile, and Edward enjoyed the social gathering.
But George did not truly listen.
His gaze kept drifting toward the door.
Maud noticed, struggling to hide her mischievous smile.
"Are you waiting for someone, Georgie?"
George answered immediately, flatly.
"No."
Maud raised an eyebrow.
"Interesting."
George exhaled.
"Who is not present today?"
Maud did not answer right away. Instead, she glanced briefly at her mother. Alexandra only offered a faint, knowing smile.
"Lady Mary is not present today," Maud finally said.
George nodded slowly, as if it were an ordinary fact.
But after that… he did not return to the conversation.
He became unusually quiet.
At her residence, Queen Victoria received her usual brief reports.
Not overly formal, but enough to give her a clear sense of things.
Who attended. Who did not. Who began to appear together. And who began to… seek.
That day, she had deliberately not invited Mary.
Not because she did not want her there—but because she wanted to see what would happen in her absence.
George, at times, began asking about Mary.
Why was she not present? Was there a reason she had not been invited? Was she unwell?
Simple questions, but in the rigid world of royal formality, they carried weight. He was not a man who spoke easily of feelings, so his sense of absence appeared only as quiet restlessness.
Queen Victoria, known for her sharp awareness of family dynamics, seemed to notice the change. She saw how George became more alive in Mary's presence—and noticeably quieter without her.
Without ever stating it directly, she began ensuring Mary would be invited more often to certain gatherings.
It was no coincidence that in the following family events, Mary appeared again—and George was almost always near her.
In that atmosphere, their connection continued to grow slowly but steadily. They walked beside each other more often, spoke longer than before, and began to develop a rhythm of togetherness that only they seemed to understand.
A few days later, George was summoned to Windsor. He arrived as expected, following royal protocol.
Everything seemed normal.
Yet something felt missing.
He noticed it from the beginning, though he did not admit it immediately.
He attended events, spoke when required, remained present—but he was quieter, more distracted, his eyes often scanning the room and the door.
More often… losing focus.
Eventually, he asked a staff member.
"Was Lady Mary of Teck not invited?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
The staff member looked slightly startled.
"No, Your Highness."
George nodded.
"I see."
He asked nothing further, but a short while later he approached his mother.
"Mama," he said softly to Alexandra.
"Is there a reason Lady Mary of Teck is not present?"
Alexandra looked at him for a moment.
"Do you feel her presence is required?" she asked gently.
George paused.
"No," he replied at last.
"There is no particular reason."
Alexandra did not argue, but she did not miss the change in him either.
On the other side of the room, Maud watched.
And this time… she truly smiled.
"This is becoming clearer," she murmured.
A few days later, Mary was invited again.
When she entered the room… George noticed her before anyone else.
He did not immediately approach.
But for the first time in days… he felt calm.
Maud, standing nearby, leaned slightly toward Toria.
"Look at that."
Toria followed her gaze.
"He doesn't even realize it," Maud continued.
"Who?" her sister asked.
Maud smiled faintly.
"Himself."
After a moment, George finally approached.
"Lady Mary."
Mary turned.
"Your Highness."
The formality remained the same—but something within it had changed.
"It has been some time," George said.
Mary looked at him briefly.
"Only a few days," she replied softly.
George almost smiled.
"It felt longer," he said before he could stop himself.
For the first time… he had said something entirely honest.
Mary did not respond immediately, but her gaze shifted slightly.
Warmer.
More understanding.
And from a distance, Queen Victoria—who had just entered the room—observed everything.
Calmly.
Because to her… some feelings did not need to be spoken to be understood.